


With Gentle Hands

by NKI_Stories



Category: Naruto
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-25
Updated: 2020-04-28
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:27:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23845207
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NKI_Stories/pseuds/NKI_Stories
Summary: Sometimes the most gentle touches can help ease your pain. Other times they might make it hurt more.
Relationships: Hatake Kakashi/Umino Iruka
Comments: 20
Kudos: 111





	1. Chapter 1

The other times were just as intense as the first time. 

The intensity was made by the way hands roamed the body, gentle, determent, and hesitant at the same time. Determent because they knew what the person liked, hesitant because they wanted to make sure it was right, and gentle because they cared. 

The kisses were soft but firm where they roamed the jaw, neck, and shoulders and eventually the rest of the naked body. Soft because of the emotion that went into it, firm because the lips couldn't get enough of the taste or the feel of the sensitive skin. Soft where they trailed down, barely making a sound, like a whisper just by touch. The breath from the nose almost more noticeable where the air hits the skin and leaving the trail of a promise. 

Firm when the feeling of soft, textured skin touched his lips and became too much. Firm when the aroma of the natural body scent was picked up by one of his strengthened five senses. Firm when he couldn't hold back anymore, but also carrying the knowledge that it would make the beautiful sounds appear. 

Fingers gently trail down the arms and down to the soft skin between the stomach and hips. A place he knows the flesh is extra sensitive and will make the body underneath him buck and causing more skin touching in more places. 

A movement less controlled, but deliberate and desperate. 

His lips then lap over a nipple on a firm chest, knowing the effect it will have on the strong body underneath. A knowledge he used with the sole purpose of satisfying, teasing, and triggering the soft gasps that made his skin prickle with excitement. The tongue moves deliberately over the textured and darkened skin, tasting and enjoying the subtle hint of salt. Teeth gently gracing and biting down, not enough to hurt but enough to make a shiver roam through the other body. 

The same lips roam further down the sensitive body, making the stomach retract at the gentle touch, and his lips smile against it, satisfied by the effect he caused. Before trailing down further, he stops for a small moment before he graces over the most sensitive body part of them all, just like a whisper, but enough touch to make the person moan. A moan almost like a gasp, a quick inhale before a slow exhale, a sound from the depths of the throat.

A sound of triumph, knowing he was the one who caused it. His eyes take in the way the adam apple on the throat moves, now in need to swallow down the extra production of salvia. 

He opens his mouth then, letting his tongue reach out past wet lips, bound to lick and taste the hardened body part, that his lips a few seconds later, settle around. This, all while hands roam down the hips and thighs, never getting enough of the body wiggling underneath him, a body willingly spreading the legs wider. 

Hands grab the tube nearby, while his mouth does all the work. Hands coat his fingers with the slick oil before they trail down between the legs, tickling the sensitive hairs and skin around the entrance, that will promise pleasure for the both of them. Hands that causes the sounds to uncontrollably escape the other's lips and get louder. Hands that separate it’s fingers before letting one slowly, and so very gently, enter. Movement deliberate and gentle, but also hesitantly pushing through the muscles that seem to contract around the digit but loosen at the same time. Muscles that do not quite agree when more fingers are being added, but accepts them excitedly as they move in and out continuously. 

The mouth covering the hardened member bobs up and down in the same rhythm as his fingers. It causes the other body to buck and twist with need. It causes the sounds to get louder and a hand to grab the back of his head, threading fingers through his silver but unruly hair. Holding him in place, but not forcefully so. 

Asking for more.

Asking for release. 

He angles his fingers where he knows to please. There is a loud gasp, the muscles hold his fingers in place and the hardened member in his mouth pulsates before releasing itself in his mouth. 

A hand holds him there, but he doesn't mind, he happily accepts the load and its taste into his mouth before swallowing eagerly. 

He removes his fingers and releases the member in his mouth, looking up at the man who now has his eyes closed, basking in the satisfaction of having a powerful orgasm. The chest is rising and sinking, and the sounds of heavy breathing from both of them fill the room. He lifts himself and crawls over the almost unmoving body, a contrast from moments before. 

The tan skin is now covered with a thin layer of sweat that glistens the soft light. 

He settles himself so that his face is mere inches from the other face. A face that has a scar bisecting it over the bridge of the nose, accompanied by a red flush. The lips are half-open and slack but allowing the air to enter and escape and brown shoulder-length hair is spread around him, almost like a dark halo. Hair he knows will be soft to the touch. He contemplates running his fingers through it but decide now is not the time.

Instead, he continues to study the face and the way the eyelashes flutter slightly and curls beautifully. A few more moments pass before those eyelashes slowly lift, revealing two gorgeous chocolate brown orbs. The eyes crinkle with joy and satisfaction, and it reveals a small set of wrinkles caused by smiling often and most likely every day. He can see the lips curl into a crocket smile in the corner of his eyes before the face collides with his, and soft but firm lips settle over his own. Their mouths open, allowing the other's tongue to enter, all while he is positioning his body to make his hardened member enter the entrance he had just prepared. 

Legs are spread wider to allow easier access, and the mouth over his gasps at the slow intrusion but still allows the passionate kiss to continue. Hands grab his shoulders and hold on as he starts moving in and out, but never fully leaves the stunning body. Breaths synchronize as he speeds up his phase, and he enjoys the tightness and movement surrounding his erect body part. He listens to the creaking sounds of the bed the way their bodies move with the sheets and falls in love with the sounds coming from his lover's mouth when he hits the bundle of nerves deep inside.

It doesn't last them long, and they are soon lying next to each other on the bed, legs still tangled together. He takes a moment to calm his breathing before he gets up from the bed, and walks to the bathroom where he cleans himself up. He then brings a wet towel to help clean up the other., allowing a few more gentle and hesitant touches, but no longer determent.

The other person will not look at him anymore after reaching this point but allows himself to be cleaned regardless of hesitant hands.

He knows the eyes that minutes previous was sparkling with joy is now seated with sadness and hurt, looking, but not really looking at the faded yellow wall in the opposite direction of where he is standing.

The tan man knows what the next move is, he knows because he has experienced it so many times before. Instead of witnessing it, because that somehow makes it hurt more, the brunette just listens for the sounds for when it is done and for the sounds to be gone. He listens to the sound of fabric rubbing against fabric and skin, for the sound of a sipper that put a distance between them that did not exist just minutes earlier. 

Iruka listens for the moment the only sounds left is his own breathing and for the slight breeze that hits his bedroom curtains.

Because after all, Kakashi never stays.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry <3


	2. Chapter 2

This time of year the sun would rise far in the horizon and peek inside the bedroom between the small gap of the curtains. The intrusion of light was what normally woke the man who slept in the bed that occupied the small room. No alarm needed, just a natural, slow, and comfortable way to wake up. His eyes would slowly blink the sleep away and he would lay a couple of minutes on the soft sheets staring blankly at the ceiling. 

Some mornings he would just rest there and plan his day before it started,. Other days he just wanted to hide under his blankets and forget about the world. 

Most mornings he wanted to just stay there with a blank mind and not allow his mind to think about anything. 

At least he tried not too. 

His mind would often think about how this bed is too big for just him. How the sheets are missing the warmth of another person, or how he went to bed the previous night with his pyjamas and how he would be still wearing it in the morning because there was no one there to encourage him to take it off. He would think of gentle hands that were no longer there.

Sometimes he would turn his head to the right and stare at the blue wall, memorizing the good and bad times when the wall used to be yellow. Other times he would turn his head to the left and stare at the window that never used to experience the morning sun because it was always facing the other way. 

A lot of things had changed since this room used to be another room. Another room that a silver-haired man sometimes used to enter, never by the door, but by the window. Years had passed since then, duty put a fence between them and wars forced everyone to prioritize.

Kakashi would not be familiar with this room. Not after Pain's attack. Not after he saved Iruka and died himself. Not after he came back to life and a devastating war broke out. 

Iruka was never angry at Kakashi for staying away when they weren't in Iruka's room touching each other with gentle hands, he understood, he really did. 

But it still hurt. 

He understood that Kakashi was broken. More broken from the inside, than from the outside despite how many scars from combat he wore. So broken that it left everything shattered, and it was impossible to glue it all back together, because some pieces were forever lost. He knew that even from their first night spent together. 

Even after many more. 

Kakashi hid his true feelings behind a solid wall in his heart. Well almost solid, except it had a very small crack in it. A crack that got bigger every time Iruka was nearby. A crack caused on the first mission they were on together and Iruka had endangered them all because he was too soft at heart. A crack caused when Iruka had been lying in a pond of his own blood and still tried to heal the small cut on Kakashi's arm before taking care of himself. A crack caused because Kakashi was shown kindness where most people showed fear. Because for once someone put Kakashi's life first before their own. 

And they did not even know each other.

To pay Iruka back for the care he had given Kakashi, Kakashi tried to pay back with his own gentle hands. Hands he had not known could be gentle in the first place. 

Iruka saw the attention and care he put into the touches, the feel of kisses so soft you almost had to see them too know they happened, the way the eye with the red orb recorded every moment and sound, making it a memory he could never forget.

He remembers how Kakashi's face would brighten up when Iruka welcomed him inside but how the eyes always had a sadness lingering, never really going away no matter how hard Iruka tried. The same sadness that always chased Kakashi away before the morning came. He wanted to stay, Iruka could see it, but he never did. It was one of those pieces that had been shattered and lost, and even if they both kept looking for the piece together, it was never found. 

After Pain's attack, there was no time to keep looking and after the war, Kakashi had an entire village to care for. Iruka was a part of that village, but it was no longer the same. 

Iruka would lay in bed on mornings like this and think of the times they only saw each other in the passing, how the only words Kakashi had said to Iruka, were words given in a speech to the entire shinobi force of Konoha. 

It hurt, but Iruka understood. 

Iruka understood because he saw him. He saw stiff shoulders, two eyebrows over two grey eyes never really relaxed, he saw tension caused by the responsibility of healing an entire village after a devastating war.

A devastating war caused by someone Kakashi had loved and admired. Someone that Kakashi had lived his life for, someone who kept him alive and standing all those years because anything else would be a disregard for the gift he was given. A gift he no longer had but that was not lost. 

The gift given by the person that held one of the last pieces. Obito was the one that shattered Kakashi from the inside so many years ago, and he was the one that held most of the lost pieces and the glue to put him back together. 

Obito might have started a war that killed so many dear ones, Iruka could not forgive him for that, but he was also grateful because he had somehow healed Kakashi in the process. Something Iruka never managed to do. 

Kakashi was now burdened with the responsibility of every life within Konoha's tall walls. But he was no longer lost or unhappy. Even from a distance, Iruka saw there was a new spark in the eyes that Iruka believed would forever hold sadness.

Happiness. 

Iruka might have not been a part of that happiness, but he was glad because it was what their newly made Hokage deserved. 

Iruka would often lay in bed and think about that.

But this morning was different. Instead, he thought about the day before. Yesterday when the young man with bright blonde hair got married to a beautiful young woman with raven black hair. The wedding was beautiful. It had been a lovely summer day and the air had radiated excitement from everyone in the village from celebrating the union of two heroes in love.

Iruka had entered the reception and just taken in the sight of the preparation and the guests of an extraordinary wedding when a person had walked up next to him under the blooming sakura trees. Iruka didn't need to look to know who it was, he knew that presence as well as he knew himself, but he still turned his head to see two grey eyes looking back at him, sparkling with joy and contempt. 

The silver-haired Hokage had never looked more beautiful with rays of sunshine hitting his face between the branches of the sakura trees. 

For the first time in over two years, Kakashi spoke to him. He thanked Iruka for cracking the solid wall, for being the only source of light in all those years before. 

He apologized for not being there after the war, for selfishly using the time to sort himself out. 

Then they talked. 

Talked about the wedding, the village and more. They watched Naruto get married to Hinata and laughed at Naruto's badly prepared speech. 

Iruka saw the moment Kakashi found his true piece and he listened when Kakashi shortly after asked if he could have the final piece back, the piece he lost after the war to find all the other pieces, a piece he desperately wanted back. 

A piece that finally fit because all the surrounding pieces were finally in place. 

Yesterday, during the wedding Kakashi opened the cap of glue. 

Last night the glue was used with gentle hands. Hands, no longer hesitant, but full of determination accompanied by a word Iruka had not allowed himself to use before, then it was set by soft kisses and tangled legs.

The morning came.

His mind would often think about how this bed is too big for just him. How the sheets are missing the warmth of another person, or how he went to bed the previous night with his pyjamas and how he would be still wearing it in the morning because there was no one there to encourage him to take it off. He would think of gentle hands that were not there.

This morning he listened. 

He listened to the fabric that rubbed against the skin, to the light breeze that hit his curtains.

He thought about how the final piece no longer just held the glue from last night, but how it was put where it belonged. 

He thought about the wall around Kakashi's heart that he once had cracked, but was now crumbled down by his feet. 

He thought about the heat of the other body lying against his back and the strong arm that curled around his waist. 

He thought about the light whisper of air hitting his neck where the other person was breathing. 

Iruka looked at the blue wall. His eyes held no hurt or sadness anymore.

Because Kakashi stayed. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading <3


End file.
